At least, that was what everybody believed about him, with the exception of Green and Adrian. His hair, which hung (like most of the immortal sidhe’s) down to his waist, tended to change color according to his mood, like one big silky mood ring, and he tended to have the attention span of one of the lower fey, but that was why he was named “Whim.” He was as insubstantial as the breeze and as reliable as a bumblebee in a hurricane. He was beautiful (as were all of his people) with triangular, perfect features wide, limpid eyes a full, wide mouth a clean, proportional nose and pointed ears, but other than that, he was perfectly average. Whim, however, was not the type of elf that songs or stories were written about. The terrible, beautiful, painful story of Adrian, Green, Bracken, and Cory-the very mortal sorceress who loved (and was loved by) them all-was the stuff of songs. Fierce and sturdy, prickly, somber, and strong. Bracken was (as most elves are) exactly like his name. The youngest sidhe on Green’s Hill was Bracken. Will and power were a sidhe’s birth control. Vast sailing ships of the 1800s, they had lost control of their will and their power. Whim’s parents were both high sidhe, and in the tumultuous, terrifying (for them) trip overseas in one of the They had sex frequently (for them it was as natural as eating or breathing) but they didn’t actually produce offspring. Smaller fey reproduced like rabbits-pixies, nixies, sprites, gnomes, goblins, trolls, brownies-they were everywhere, hiding in the corners of houses like dust, but high sidhe, the big elves did not, as a whole, procreate a lot. Whim was the second-youngest high sidhe on Green’s Hill, and possibly the least powerful one. Everybody loved Green and his vampire consort, Adrian, including Whim. Using this power, Green managed to gather every supernatural being-shape-shifters, vampires, lower fey, high sidhe-all of them, under his aegis and protection.
He had the gift of sex and the ability to gain magical power from the sharing of flesh and the whisper of skin on skin. Green was the leader, a beautiful high sidhe (or elf) with hiplength, butter-colored hair, a penchant for mortals, and what should have been a minor gift that he’d parlayed into a major one. Whim-Offerings GREEN’S HILL was a magical faery commune that rested in an unspecified location in the Northern California foothills.
Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound But while you debate half empty or half full It slowly rises, your love is gonna drown
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